


Of long hair and man buns

by flaminpumpkin



Series: A story of hair [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: But the funny kind, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Just your daily dose of fluff because we all need it right now, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:33:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28343967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaminpumpkin/pseuds/flaminpumpkin
Summary: Suna's hair is getting longer and he's too lazy to cut it. His boyfriend seems to have an opinion on the matter but despite Suna's prodding, he doesn't say anything. So, naturally, he gets suspicious.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Series: A story of hair [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056230
Comments: 6
Kudos: 141
Collections: SunaOsa





	Of long hair and man buns

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before the official release of EJP's jersey color so don't come for my neck when you read the line where I mention it. I just really liked the light blue color scheme and wanted to make a reference and I didn't want to change for the sake of accuracy when it's not plot relevant. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!!

It started innocently enough, Rintarou putting it on the account of tiredness, not thinking much of his boyfriend’s short pause when he got home that night.

He had come home to an empty apartment after practice had ended early, finding a bright yellow post-it note stuck to his fridge with Osamu’s neat scribbling on it saying he’d gone grocery shopping for that night’s dinner. His mouth had watered just at the thought of the other man’s cooking, more than happy to let him do anything food related while he was in Tokyo.

Suna wasn’t that much of a bad cook. Not anymore at least.

Being a professional athlete with a strict diet to follow, he had been forced to learn. Through trial and error – lots of them – he had found his way around his small kitchen, being now able to cook decent meals without burning anything to a crisp. But his food lacked the soul Osamu always seemed to infuse in everything he cooked. He missed it terribly, every time he was left alone in his Tokyo apartment. Which was why he never even got anywhere within a ten meter distance from any pot or cooking utensil when Osamu was around. He was tired of soulless food.

But that night, after waiting for thirty minutes, showering in the meantime to keep himself busy, Rintarou was famished. Practice had been grueling – which was one of the reasons why the coach had decided to end it early, cutting the team some slack after winning an excruciatingly long six sets match against the Falcons two days before – and his stomach was a mere second away from eating itself out of hunger.

He was in the middle of pouring boiling water in an instant ramen cup when Osamu entered the kitchen.

“Hey, babe, I’m… huh.”

Rin raised a perfect eyebrow as his boyfriend blinked owlishly at him, bags full of groceries still dangling from his hand.

“Yes?” he asked impatiently.

He knew he probably looked ridiculous but Osamu’s reaction was a bit on the excessive side of things.

“Nothing,” Osamu rushed to answer, shaking himself a bit before gently depositing the bags on the kitchen counter and gesturing at the glittery red hair pins with cherries on them that Rintarou was wearing. “At least now we know where yer sister’s hair pins disappeared to.”

The brunette crossed his arms defensively, pouting slightly.

“And what of it? May hair was getting in my face after I showered and I was searching for something to hold it back. You know, since someone ruined my headband by washing it with the towels and boiled it down to the size of a hair tie,” (and Osamu had the decency to look guilty at that). “That’s the only thing I found so I took it. Got something to say about it?”

Raising his hands in a placating manner at the slight offense he obviously detected in Rintarou’s voice, Osamu shook his head, eyes wide.

“Sheesh Rin, calm down. I didn’t say anythin’.”

Then he took a step forward and raised his hand towards the brunette’s face, Rin watching him warily with a pout the entire time, relaxing only when he felt deft fingers gently twirl around a strand of wild hair.

“It _is_ getting’ quite long, ain’t it?”

And, right there, on Osamu’s face. There was a secretive smile, soft, devoid of malice, and Rintarou decided to let go of the subject. They probably were both tired – him from practice, and Osamu from visiting potential places to buy all over the city to open his restaurant’s Tokyo branch.

So instead of arguing any further, he nudged his face against his boyfriend’s hand, fitting his cheek in the curve of the rough, dry curve of Osamu’s palm, sighing contentedly.

“I was thinkin’ about some good ol’ okonomiyaki tonight. Osaka style,” Osamu said after a few moments, his voice quiet in the silent kitchen. “And I bought some lemon cake to eat while we watch a movie after.”

Rin hummed in response, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and pressed a light kiss against Osamu’s forehead, idly wondering if he should make an appointment at the hairdresser. Or maybe he could wait a little longer.

He was a lazy man, after all.

* * *

Rintarou didn’t make an appointment to the hairdresser in the end.

Between practice, official matches, interviews and photo ops, the amount of free time he had seemed to diminish the further they got into volleyball season so, when he had time for himself, he spent it either relaxing at home or at the little hole-in-the-wall bakery he loved so much, two blocks down from his apartment building. He didn’t want to waste any precious second of his downtime doing something that wasn’t utterly necessary.

But he also didn’t want to trim his ends on his own. He had seen enough fail videos of people fucking up their hair past the point of redemption by thinking they could do a better job than professionals, thank you very much. He had enough common sense for that. Or, he was too much of a chicken, depending on who you asked.

Read: if you asked Atsumu.

“Live a little, Sunarin!” the blond had teased, smirking teasingly before somehow managing to get a setter’s dump past his block during EJP’s last game against the Jackals.

Rin had almost flipped him off before remembering the referees probably wouldn’t take it kindly. They’d been in the middle of an official match after all, not fooling around in the backyard of the Miya household.

But the thing was, his hair had gotten just long enough for him to tuck it behind his ears comfortably without having to put it back every few seconds. So it really wasn’t an urgent matter. Plus, he had found some of his sister’s long lost bobby pins in the bathroom – she seemed to lose a bunch of it every time she visited him judging by the amount he had found – and had bought a new head band – pale green and fluffy so it wouldn’t tug on his hair too much.

Head band that he was wearing that night when he and Osamu had their weekly video call.

He was in his usual winter pajamas – some warm sweatpants and one of Osamu’s oldest Onigiri Miya sweater that didn’t have any proper shape or form anymore. Brown hair was pushed back out of his face by his brand new headband, the soft material of it not a completely uncomfortable feeling behind his ears compared to the one he had started to wear during practice and games.

As they kept talking, Rin popping some dried berries in his mouth every once in a while, he couldn’t help but notice how distracted Osamu seemed to be. His eyes kept flicking all over the screen, zoning out on some spot before hastily refocusing on Rintarou’s face.

“Are you ok?” he ended up asking after one too many extended silence from Osamu.

“I- yeah. I’m just… I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

Osamu waved his hand in a dismissive manner but his eyes quickly glanced at something on the screen again and, suddenly, it clicked in Rin’s mind. He remember the little cherry hair pin incident, if you could call that really, from a month ago; how his boyfriend had suddenly focused on that out of everything. And he frowned, brows furrowing slightly.

“You don’t have a problem with the headband, do you?”

The black haired man sputtered a little at that, clearly taken aback.

“What? No! Of course not, Rin, what the heck? I’ve seen ya with that kind of headband before, remember? I don’t care, ya do whatever ya want.”

But Rin huffed and crossed his arm petulantly at that, causing Osamu to sighed, looking resigned. The brunette realized he was being overly petty out of tiredness again, indeed remembering all the times Osamu had actually adjusted with a quiet chuckle his headband on top of his head when his hands had been full of face mask. He was about to apologize when the other man continued, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous way.

“I just- if anything, I think it’s cute, ok?”

A glance in Rin’s general direction. A slight blush. Or was it the light?

“Matches yer eyes, y’know? It’s pretty.”

A pause.

“Oh… Ok,” was the dumb answer he gave.

Rin was a bit surprised as he watched the redness on his boyfriend’s cheeks – that was definitely _not_ caused by a trick of the light – deepen until it was an intense shade of crimson, slowly bleeding down to his neck and all the way to the top of his ears. But it was nice, seeing the ever unflappable Miya Osamu flustered.

 _Maybe I’ll wear it more around him. He looks nice when he blushes_ , he thought without really listening as Osamu threw himself into the recounting of one of his and Atsumu’s latest misadventures, obviously trying to change the subject. And Rintarou let him, too focused on the blush on his boyfriend’s cheeks to care.

* * *

Rin really started to get suspicious the weekend after their awkward video call.

They were lounging on the couch, watching some plotless action movie that was on that night’s TV program, like every other Saturday, Osamu laying on his back with the brunette sprawled on top of him like an overgrown cat.

But Rin couldn’t focus on anything. Except Osamu and his hands.

His boyfriend had been petting his hair for the best part of the movie, skimming his fingertips along his hairline before pushing them back, running through his hair, all the way the his nape. Again. And again. And Again. And again. It was like he wanted it out of his way.

Osamu had never acted so obsessed with his hair but ever since it had gotten longer than Rin usually allowed it to be, it seemed like it had become the center of his attention. He was constantly playing with it, brushing it back, trying to make it stay out of Rin’s eyes, which would had been cute and domestic if he hadn’t done it 24/7. Some colorful hair pins had even miraculously appeared in his bathroom and he hadn’t known exactly what to do of Osamu’s proud little smirk when he had emerged from the shower with a couple of baby blue ones on each side of his face. It might have been some prank but he had worn them proudly, actually liking the little touch of color and how it reminded him of his team’s jersey.

And, to be completely fair, if his boyfriend was trying to tease him too much, Rintarou still had an entire folder full of pictures of Osamu looking like a beefy foamy microphone on his phone. He still laughed every time he thought about the time Osamu had decided to give himself a buzz cut because his idiot brother had called him “oreo head” _once_.

“Do you think I should cut my hair?” he asked instead of anything else, propping his chin on his boyfriend’s chest to look at him in the eyes.

Osamu simply shrugged noncommittally, taking advantage of Rin facing him to run both of his hands through his hair, towards the back of the brunette’s head so he could hold it gently as he kissed his forehead.

Not exactly what Rintarou had expected. An affirmation, maybe. Some teasing words. Sarcasm. He _would have_ expected that. But Osamu appeared to have no real opinion on the matter.

“Wanna extrapolate on that shrug or…?”

“Why would I?” Osamu simply answered, quirking a brow. “Don’t really have an opinion. Yer cute anyway. Longer or shorter hair, I don’t care. And it’s not like I have a say in what ya do with yer body after all.”

When Rin only squinted at him unconvinced because he knew his boyfriend didn’t tell him the entire truth, Osamu shoved his hand in the brunette’s face to push him away with a disbelieving huff. Which earned him an offended squawk that led to them wrestling on the couch for another five minutes before falling on the ground with a loud thud, laughing happily together.

* * *

Osamu did have an opinion on the matter though as it appeared the next morning.

Rin was sitting on the floor hunched over the last number of Volleyball Monthly, snuggly wrapped in a quilt, legs under the kotatsu and hair blissfully maintained out of his line of sight by the half man bun he had managed to tie up earlier.

The apartment was quiet, safe from the low hum of foreign rock’n’rool song coming from the speaker of his phone.

At least until Osamu emerged from the kitchen after washing the dishes, a cup of warm coffee in each hand. Cups of coffee he slammed so hard on the kotatsu that the dark liquid sloshed around abruptly, some of it ending up overflowing.

“What the- Samu!” Rintarou screeched in surprised, straightening back up suddenly and cradling his phone close to his chest like it was his most precious possession (which it was, if you asked him).

“That’s it! I’m makin’ an appointment to the hairdresser for ya!” Osamu declared loudly instead of giving any explanation, stomping back to the kitchen probably to retrieve some paper towels to clean the mess he had just made.

And Rintarou sat there, flabbergasted, as Osamu came back and cleaned the coffee staining the wood of the kotatsu. He silently watched the grumbling and somehow deeply blushing mess that was his boyfriend come and go a couple of times, not daring to even breathe to loud in fear of getting whiplashed again.

It wasn’t until Osamu crouched down next to him that he snapped out of his shock, ready to ask him what his problem was. No words went past his mouth, though.

Before Rin could utter anything, his boyfriend grabbed his face, squeezing his cheeks together uncomfortably.

“Ya goddamn menace,” he growled as Rintarou’s eyes followed the blush on the other man’s face rapidly creep down his neck, past the collar of his shirt, the brunette slowly realizing what was up with his boyfriend. “I can handle cute hair pins, even the headband – that shit matches yer eyes too well, ya did it on purpose, I just know it – but this?”

He jerked his chin in the general direction of Rin’s hair, looking redder by the seconds.

“This goddamn half bun? Nuh-huh. Not on my watch,” he started to ramble. “Ya got any idea how hot ya look right now? How freakin’ gorgeous? I got shit to do and I can’t have ya distract me by strutting around the apartment looking like- No. Don’t ya dare look at me like that- I said stop it, dammit!”

But Rintarou just kept smirking which only seemed to fluster Osamu further, who decided to make a strategic retreat towards the bedroom, probably to scream in a pillow or something.

 _I’m gonna by some more hair ties_ , was his last thought before all hell broke loose in the apartment as the pillow he thought Osamu would use to scream his frustration into flew towards his head.

**Author's Note:**

> (They ended up having a pillow fight like the overgrown children they are.)
> 
> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments feed my soul and warm my heart so don't hesitate!


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